Regarding sport, it all started on October 17, 2004. Dave Roberts stole second and started The City on a Hill's rise to the top of the mountain. Since then, the duck boats have put on considerable miles. We've had parade after parade after parade after parade after parade after parade . . . and after Saturday . . . after parade on the streets of Boston.
The last Stanley Cup won in Boston was when Pops was 16 years old, Dewey Evans was still a bright-eyed rookie, and Tommy Heinsohn was rockin' a plaid sportcoat in the Garden. Now, in 2011, thanks to Timmy Thomas' dominance and Luongo's Lebron-esque knack for shrinking under pressure, I've seen every major trophy arrive in the Hub. I've had a lot to smile about since 2004, and now, Krista's given me everything to fill in the offseason gaps.
She cheers with me. She heckles with me. Rather, she mumbles something, unsure of whether it's funny, and I blurt it out and subsequently take full credit. She still claims the Bears, but has reluctantly given in to the impossible lure of the Sox and the Celtics. She's let me construct a replica of the Green Monster in the manroom. She understands me. In a word, she gets "it." My brother told me that he judges every new relationship against what her and I have together. That's tough competition.
Recently, we have started the next phase in our lives. I proposed about a month ago, and I couldn't be happier. Contrary to how I drew it up in my head when I was a teenager, I did not propose via Jumbotron. We'll journey together through football season, basketball season, baseball season, yes, hockey season, and all the other seasons of our lives together. She'll be by my side, and I'll be by hers. This blog is about sports, but there's nothing wrong with throwing a little bit about Krista and me in there too.
